


Make every moment right.

by robokittens



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Constant Coworker Sass, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone is a Barista!, M/M, Phasma Knows What's Up, Ren is Oblivious to His Own Feelings, drunken hookups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-06-09 18:22:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6918076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/pseuds/robokittens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, Ren reflects, he should try and be more in touch with his own feelings. If he's going to be a writer — well, he is a writer; if he's going to be a <em>successful</em> writer, he needs to be able to embrace the full spectrum of human emotion.</p><p>As it is, he's just kind of embracing a desire to punch his coworker in the dick.</p><p>—</p><p>In which novels are drafted, lives are changed, many customers are denied their regular coffee fix, and Ren Organa has no feelings for his coworker Hux beyond pure unbridled hatred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. FIVE WEEKS

**Author's Note:**

> holy heck!!! this has been a RIDE.
> 
> thank you first and foremost to the mods of the kbb for putting this whole shindig together; i literally could not have done it without you.
> 
> thank you to [theonlytwin](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlytwin) and to [waffilicious](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Waffilicious/) for the cheerreading and betaing!
> 
> THANK YOU to my artist, [kyluxfightclub](http://kyluxfightclub.tumblr.com/)!!! you're the dream, truly; you were what i was writing toward this whole time. (WONDERFUL art now at the end of the first chapter!)
> 
> and to my coworkers ... please don't be reading this ;)

**Friday:**

Snoke is on vacation _again_ , because they have the literal worst manager in the galaxy. The general perception is that he's probably a malevolent being of some sort — the morning crew, in particular, seem to view him as straight-up evil. But then, they have to work with him more often. One of the many nice things about closing shifts, in Ren's opinion, is the relative lack of managerial oversight.

The problem with Snoke being on vacation is that they're currently short on shift supervisors. There's Snoke, there's Poe, and there's Phazzy — and that's it. That's normally fine for their level of business, but with Snoke gone it's throwing the whole game off. So they've got a rotating cast of borrowed shifts for the next week, and none of them will know what they're doing and all of them will be terrible.

Ren has been told he can be a little melodramatic. This is a lie. Ren has a _dramatic soul_. It's part of his charm.

The borrowed shift — Susan? — squints at the schedule. "Which one of you is Benjamin?" she asks.

Behind him, Hux snorts.

"It's Ren, actually," Ren says. 

"What?"

"Ren," he says again, slowly, enunciating it clearly. "I go by Ren."

Susan looks unimpressed, but quickly plasters on a smile. "Okay, Ren. Good to meet you! Are you the regular closer? I haven't worked at this store before, so you might have to walk me through it."

Ren sighs internally, but does his best to put a smile on his own face. He can feel it twitching at the corners. "We're not very busy at night, even on weekends, so it shouldn't be too hard for you. And we've got that one —" He hooks a thumb over his shoulder toward the bar "— until 5:30."

"Hi!" Hux calls. Ren can _feel_ his smile. It's a slimy, unpleasant feeling. He's put on his talking-to-customers voice. He's probably waving. What an asshole. "I'm Bren."

Susan's smile brightens. "Ren and Bren? That's so cute. You two must be quite a team."

Ren breathes in, one two three; out, one two three. "Quite a team," he says through gritted teeth.

If Susan notices, she wisely doesn't say anything.

The phone rings. Ren is closest, so he picks it up with a sigh. It's going to be some moron who can't use the internet asking when they're open ‘till, he just knows it.

"Thanks for calling Starbucks Republic. This is Ren. How can I help you?" 

He can see Hux laughing at him from on the bar, like it's somehow humorous that Ren answers the phone like a civilized human being.

"Eight o'clock tonight. Yes, thank you."

He hangs up. It's going to be one of those nights.

The shift progresses. Nothing exciting happens, aside from Hux being an ass — and that's not really _exciting_ so much as a sort of depressing status quo — and honestly, Ren likes it that way. 

There are pros and cons to working at a small neighborhood store like this, but especially during the summer, the slower speed is a definite pro. School's out for the kids, so there's no mad after-school Frappuccino rush, just a general ebb and flow of people. With the sun out, most people don't seem to be in too much of a hurry; they're content to get their iced coffees and go about their days. And school's out for Ren, too: nothing to do but work and write his novel.

Being slow affords him plenty of time to do both. He can't keep his notebook on him on the floor, unfortunately, so his apron pockets are stuffed with ideas and notes jotted down on bits of receipt tape. These frantic scribbles are no real substitute for proper writing, but at least the slow pace affords him plenty of time to daydream.

His breaks, of course, are dedicated to getting real work done.

"I'm going to write a scathing critique of coffeeshop culture," he tells Hux, "and you will be the villain."

Hux raises an eyebrow. "You will do no such thing," he says, and starts steaming milk. It's very loud, from where Ren is sitting at the counter next to the bar. It's very rude, and very final, and Hux is probably doing it wrong anyway.

"Grande white chocolate mocha," Hux calls out, putting the drink down on the hand-off plane.

Ren glares at the espresso machine, and chews on the end of his pen.

"Ren," Hux says, almost pityingly, "You don't need to watch me. I know how to do my job."

It's without much fervor that Ren says, "fuck you." He gnaws on his pen some more before flipping to a fresh page in his notebook.

>   
>  _Brad scowled at him. He slammed his beer down on the countertop. "Get out of here," he said loudly._
> 
> _Matt scowled back. "I go where I want," he said. "I've been coming to this bar longer than you have. You get out."_
> 
> _"Yeah," the red-headed man shot back. "And everyone's sick of your face."_
> 
> _Matt couldn't understand how anyone could be sick of his face. He knew Brad had to be lying. Matt's face was super handsome and dramatic, especially with the dramatic scar bisecting it. He got all the girls, and he knew Brad couldn't get any. Probably Brad was gay._
> 
> _"What do you know, anyway?" Matt said. He scowled some more._
> 
> _"More than you," Brad said. He sounded very sure of himself._
> 
> _Matt grew tired of this_ repartee _. He plotted his next move._  
> 


	2. FOUR WEEKS

**Thursday:**

"Hey, Bren!" Finn says cheerfully.

Ren takes a deep breath. Finn is _new_. It is _fine_. Ren does not have to _murder him with his brain_.

"Ren," he says shortly.

Finn has the good grace to look embarrassed.

"Sorry!" he says. He's too cheerful. The entire morning crew is too cheerful.

"They're pretty much the same person," Rey says. "Don't even worry about it."

Rey is not too cheerful, even if she's morning crew. She's always super friendly with customers, but with real people she's snarky and a little dark in her humor and, while Ren secretly kind of likes her — if someone is going to mix up his name with a coworker's, he would much rather get called Rey than Bren, honestly — he is probably going to have to murder her with his brain.

"We are _not_ ," he says, a little snippily. Rey laughs. She has a very nice laugh. Ren is definitely going to murder her. With his brain.

Rey, he notices belatedly, isn't in work clothes. She tends more toward earth tones when she's not in her mandated Starbucks black and khaki; today she's dressed in soft greens and browns and looks incredibly comfortable. Finn, by contrast, looks stiff and awkward in his uniform, his work shoes clearly not broken in yet, his apron spotless.

Ren pulls his own black shirt out of his messenger bag and pulls it on over his t-shirt.

He could ask why Rey is hanging out in the back room at work when she doesn't have a shift, but honestly, he can guess. He's not actually sure what the Starbucks policy on fraternization is, but he has to admit, grudgingly, that they'd be a cute couple.

"Ren and Bren hate each other," Rey stage-whispers. Ren stiffens. They should be above such puerile gossip at this store. Besides, Finn's been here almost a month; surely he's picked up on it, even for how infrequently they work together.

"I think," Ren says, sotto voce, "that you will discover that Hux has very few redeeming qualities."

"He seems nice," Finn says, and Ren sighs.

"Ambitious, yes. Dedicated, perhaps. But _nice_?" Ren pulls his hair up into a messy bun and secures it with the hair tie around his wrist, pulls his hat out of his bag and jams it onto his head, pulls out a tangle of apron and tucks it under his arm as he maneuvers past the two of them to the work computer. He clocks in.

" _Nice_?" he says again, his voice heightened in disbelief. "Never."

He stomps past them to the floor, pulling his apron over his head as he goes.

 

—

 

**Friday:**

Phasma is on her phone on the floor, which happens sometimes. Snoke likes to text his supervisors, rather than calling — in Ren's opinion, he just likes having as little interpersonal communication as possible. It's … an interesting management technique, to say the least. Admittedly this is Ren's first real job, so he has nothing to compare to; he can imagine worse bosses, though. At least no one can accuse Snoke of micro-managing.

"That's interesting," Phasma says, in a tone of voice that implies less "interesting" than "potentially catastrophic."

Ren tries to peer at her phone, but she elbows him away. "It's a group text," she says. "You'll see."

Ren sighs deeply. "I'm going to the back."

Sometimes Ren wishes he wore a greatcoat, or robes, or something like that, just so he could leave a room with mystery and panache. As it is, his slip-resistant shoes squeak lightly on the tiled floor.

His phone is in his coat pocket, and his coat is draped over the back of a chair, and Phazzy's coat is thrown on top of his coat; it takes a little bit of digging for him to find it. When he does, though, it's flashing green. He has two text messages: one from Snoke to, apparently, the whole store; the other from Girl Dan to him and (of all people) Hux. He ignores that one for now, in favor of the message from their manager.

 **MEETING TOMORROW (SAT) 1 PM. PLEASE ATTEND.** , Snoke says. He texts in all caps most of the time, like he's some sort of evil overlord, or like he's a million years old and doesn't understand texting.

A second message, sent a minute later, adds, **PIZZA WILL BE PROVIDED.**

If there's pizza, Ren will _definitely_ be there.

He heads back onto the floor, where Phasma is idly wiping down counter tops. They're so dead weekday nights it's a little embarrassing.

"Do you think we're fucked?" he asks. Belatedly, he looks around, but there's still no one in the store. He grabs a broom and heads out to the cafe, starts sweeping under tables and chairs. It's been swept, but it can always be swept again.

"Why would we be fucked?"

She sounds like they're probably fucked.

The bell over the door jingles, and someone peers inside. "Are you still open?" they call, holding the door ajar.

"Yes," Ren says, at the exact moment Phasma says "Come on in!" She's much better at pretending to be personable than he is.

He lets Phaz handle the venti coffees and goes to the back for mop water. He might as well just get the floors done if they're going to be this slow. Maybe they can get out early.

Ren likes cleaning. It's mindless, it's calming, he doesn't have to talk to customers. He's gotten some of his best writing done while mopping — or some of his best mental drafts, anyway.

>   
>  _Matt strode through the night. The air was chilly, the wind biting, but his leather jacket was functional as well as incredibly stylish, and it bit the wind right back._
> 
> _Maybe Brad was right. The tall man scowled at the very thought of it, but he had to admit there was some validity to it. Maybe Matt should find new places to hang out — new places, with new people. New people who are cooler than the people he associates with currently._
> 
> _Matt hadn't even realized he'd fallen so low._
> 
> _It was time to turn his life around._  
> 

They're almost closed when he goes to dump the mop bucket. While he's in the back room, he goes to check his phone. That message from Dan is still waiting. 

It's a link to a YouTube video of two puppies play-fighting. The read receipts say Hux saw it, but he hasn't replied either.

 

—

 

**Saturday:**

Ren can hear the low murmur of conversation over the hiss of the steam wand. He lowers the lever again, clearing it, and focuses on the foam of this hazelnut flat white. He knows that he can _hear_ whatever's happening in the back, knows that if he just listens …

He lids the drink and slides a sleeve onto it, sneaks a peek at the side of the cup and takes a moment to decipher Susan's handwriting. "Jeff," he says, just loudly enough.

Jeff's the only customer in the store, so of course when he steps up to the hand-off plane he asks, "Is this a flat hazelnut white?"

Ren doesn't say anything for a count of one, two, three. "Sure is," he says finally. And smiles.

Jeff disappears with no further words.

"I can probably handle it, if you want to go back there," Susan says. Ren twitches.

Deep breath. One, two, three. "No," he says, a little too emphatically. "I'm fine. Don't want to leave you alone."

She's only even here for an hour, to cover the meeting. Ren hopes it won't last an hour, and it probably won't. It's been going for something like ten minutes now. That's twice as long as most of Snoke's meetings, although only half as long as most of Maz's, and she's rumored to be showing up for this one. 

Ren hopes he can skip the Maz portion in his abridged version of things. Meeting alone with Snoke is bad enough; Maz _terrifies_ him. He doesn't know if other district managers are as … intense as his is, but if he can avoid her fierce bespectacled gaze for the rest of his natural life, he'd prefer to. (Presumably Maz — though still healthy and hale — will be waiting for him at the gates to the afterlife. Judging.)

Susan's doing something over by the pastry case. Ren realizes he can't quite bring himself to care. 

Two more customers walk in: a mother and daughter, venti nonfat chai tea latte and tall vanilla bean creme frappuccino. He takes their orders and makes their drinks by rote. He wipes down the fridge doors.

Finally, Boy Dan peeks his head out from the back room. 

"Hey Ren?" 

Ren turns around, maybe too quickly, sani rag whipping around fast enough to hit him in the thigh.

"Uh, yeah," he says. He's aiming for cool. He probably doesn't make it.

"Snoke says you should — yeah."

Boy Dan disappears back into the back room. He looks _upset_. This is weird, this is weird, this is —

"I'll be back," he tells Susan as he brushes past her.

The thing about Snoke is, he _looms_. He's weird and indeterminately old and very, very tall and somehow both stooped and agile — he's preternaturally fast on bar, and somehow strangely charming toward customers. But where his partners are concerned, he's … well, he looms.

"Kylo Ren," Snoke says gravely as Ren shuffles into the back room. 

Snoke is also the only person who's ever called Ren "Kylo" that he hasn't had a creative writing class with. Ren isn't even sure how Snoke discovered his pen name — has Snoke read his writing, somehow? — but he's addressed him by it since shortly after Ren was hired.

Ren nods. He doesn't say anything, just looks around the room before turning his face back to Snoke.

That brief look around was enough, though, to tell him everything: Rey's red eyes, the set of Poe's mouth, the look of stark determination on Phasma's face. The anger on Hux's. This is it, then. The rumors are true.

"We're closing," Ren says.

Snoke nods. "Meeting adjourned," he intones. "I will speak to Ren alone."

He speaks to Ren alone. It's not much, really, and any questions he has, Snoke is prepared to answer. They have about a month; they'll all be sent to other stores in the district; prepare this new availability form and write your top two store choices on it. Your preferences will be taken into account. Don't tell customers anything yet.

He walks back out onto the floor, feeling slightly dazed. Phasma gives him a pitying look. He can't imagine what he's done to deserve it. 

"Take a ten," she says. "Go have some pizza."

Pizza sounds nice. He should … get a drink to go with it. Make the most of his break. Yeah. He makes his way to the front of the register and orders a trippio on ice.

It's Hux on bar when he gets there, which makes sense; Hux is closing tonight. He knew that. This meeting has screwed up his sense of time.

Hux slides Ren's drink over with a shocking lack of snark or banter. Ren takes it without comment.

He stabs his straw viciously through the lid of his drink, crunching against the ice as he walks toward the back room. It's almost cathartic, which is … strange.

This shouldn't matter to him. It's just a store. He hasn't lost his job. He could transfer to the Dagobah store, or Naboo — he could walk to work. 

So he'll lose the effort he's put in here to learn the store; so he'll lose the fledgling relationships he's built with customers. All the names and drinks he's memorized, the smiles he's won. The effortless way he can close the store down every night, regardless of who else he's working with, no matter how difficult the customers. What do those things mean to him, really, in the scheme of things.

And besides: he'll never have to work with Hux again. His gaze drifts back toward the bar, and slowly, he smiles.


	3. THREE WEEKS

**Tuesday:**

Poe is the only one on the floor when Ren steps into the store on a quiet morning. Ren's not working — a holdover from when he had class all day Tuesdays — but he generally stops in to get his tips and a cup of coffee, and maybe sit in the corner and write for a little while. As often as he does it, it always feels strange to be here out of uniform, hair loose around his shoulders, a t-shirt instead of a polo.

It's bright and sunny outside, and the cafe is actually fairly full; Ren has to wait in line for his americano. 

"Are you working alone?" the man in front of him asks Poe, and Poe laughs. It sounds like a genuine laugh; Poe's smiles always look real, like he's honestly happy to see every customer who walks through the door. Ren has never understood how he does it.

"Nah," Poe says, "the kids are in back."

Ren huffs a quiet laugh under his breath. It must be Rey and Finn working today. That's what Poe always calls them — the kids, but almost proud, like they're _his_ kids. He'd taken a shine to Finn from the moment that boy was hired, and he and Rey seemed like they'd been friends since before the day Rey transferred in. Rey and Finn are the youngest two of the crew but, Ren has to admit, good at their jobs.

"Hey, Ren," Poe calls over from the bar. "Grande americano?"

"And my tips."

Poe grabs a cup and punches a few buttons on the espresso machine. "Yeah, of course. I'll grab them for you in a second."

Ren nods.

Poe passes over his americano and Ren takes it, walks behind the counter, heading for the back room.

He can hear Rey's voice, quiet, as he walks into the back. He can't quite make out what she's saying, but she sounds fond, reassuring, _happy_. He can't hear what Finn says in response, either, even though they're standing a matter of feet from him — they're standing so close together, and Rey has Finn's hands clasped in hers. 

For a moment, Ren is afraid that they're going to kiss. He's afraid that they'll kiss right there, right in front of him — that it will be their first kiss, with himself as unwitting voyeur. He clears his throat loudly.

They drop their hands, but they don't move apart. Finn looks, very distinctly, as though he's been caught doing something wrong and is afraid of being reprimanded. Rey looks defiant.

Ren literally could not care less.

"Just dropping this off," he says, and walks past them to the desk. He sets down his drink and rifles through his bag before pulling out his availability sheet; there's a manilla envelope with **AVAILABILITY** written on it in big block letters, and he slides his in.

"Poe might need help on the floor," he says quietly as he passes them again on his way out.

Poe doesn't seem to need any help when he gets out there, but he had to break up the canoodle-fest somehow. 

"Tips are out!" Poe calls over from the bar.

Ren winces as he counts the bills and signs off on the tip sheet: maybe his new store, wherever it is, will have better tips. He shoves the money in his wallet and surveys the cafe. Sometimes there are too many regulars for him to be able to get work done — he doesn't have anything against his customers, really, but some of them feel entitled to his time even when he's off the clock — but today it seems pretty safe. Plus, free coffee; he doesn't get that anywhere else.

"You stickin' around, man?" Poe asks.

"Yeah," Ren says. "For a while."

Poe smiles like Ren had just said something much more exciting. "Cool, cool. Get some good work done."

"I'll try."

There's a table in the corner that's relatively secluded — for some reason it's the table that always gets its chairs stolen, so it's also usually free. There's only one chair there today, and Ren snags it gratefully. He wedges himself into the corner and pulls out his notebook.

If Ren is going to be entirely honest with himself, he's not totally sure where his work is going right now. He'd thought about doing noir, but that's so overdone for one's first novel; he'd considered a slice-of-life effort, but maybe that's not interesting enough? Lately, he's been doodling star systems in the margin of his notebook. He's considering going sci-fi.

It runs in the family, after all. Ren's grandfather was born Anakin Skywalker, but the sci-fi/fantasy world knew him better as Darth Vader. Vader had died before Ren was born, but he'd published a sweeping, eight-volume space opera before then. There was supposed to be a ninth book, but he'd died before it was finished. Ren's mother has the manuscript in a vault somewhere, probably.

Someday, Ren dreams of finishing that ninth book. But in the meantime … he needs to figure out what he's doing with his own work.

>   
>  _Ttam strode through the night, blaster at his hip. The winds whipped through the canyons formed by towering, luminescent buildings, buildings so tall Ttam would be hard-pressed to believe they ended at all if he hadn't been flying up there just yesterday._
> 
> _Yesterday. A word with no meaning, on a world with no sun._
> 
> _The star this planet orbited had gone dark millennia ago. Most of the species that called it home had died — but humanity, as is its wont, had managed to survive. It was a dark world, lawless, but for the teeming millions of Zaetov… it was home._
> 
> _And now Ttam found himself amongst them._
> 
> _Amongst the dark._
> 
> _Ttam clicked the safety off on his blaster, then clicked it on again. He wasn't sure what was more perilous in this world: being caught off-guard, or being too ready to get into trouble. He was sure the natives could smell it on him._
> 
> _He had only been on-world for a day, or what his body was telling him was a day. He had followed a lead here, but with a source as mysterious as his was … who knew what was true and what was false. What was safe … and what was dangerous._
> 
> _Ttam had never really known who his true friends were._  
> 

— 

 

**Thursday:**

Hux is on a break when Ren gets to the store, fifteen minutes before Ren's shift starts. He's sitting at the back table eating a breakfast sandwich, and he sighs audibly when Ren walks into the back room.

"Hi," Ren says, feeling unusually charitable.

Hux runs a hand through his hair — his hat is on the table, and his hair is looking strangely disheveled. It's usually slicked back effectively enough that the hat doesn't do much damage, but now his bangs are falling forward into his face. 

Ren's fingers twitch inside his pockets; there's a strange temptation to reach out and tuck Hux's hair back into place, to smooth over the crown of his head.

He doesn't, of course. That would be weird.

Hux doesn't say anything in response to Ren's greeting, merely nods in a sort of greeting of his own. Ren pulls out the other chair at the table and slumps down into it.

He'd gone out last night with a guy from one of his classes last semester — they'd gotten along decently well, and decided to hang out over the summer. Ren's still not sure if last night was supposed to be a date, but if it was, it was an awful one.

"Are you _hungover_?" Hux says finally, fixing Ren with a steely gaze.

Ren runs a hand through his own hair, twisting it around his fingers before leaning forward and letting it fall over his face. "No," he snaps.

He's not. Mostly. He's just got a bit of a headache.

"I can't believe you're hungover for a —" Hux checks his phone. "— 1 pm shift. On a _Thursday_. That's so unprofessional."

Ren peers at him from behind his curtain of hair. "We work at _Starbucks_."

Hux stiffens. "That's no cause for this sort of behavior."

Ren rolls his eyes, even though Hux probably can't see it. He shouldn't have made the effort; it just makes his head hurt worse. "Stick it up your ass," he mutters. "Everyone knows you're from fuckin' Seattle. Your parents big stockholders, huh? Daddy on the board of directors?"

Hux doesn't say anything, precisely, but he makes a sort of outraged noise that indicates Ren may have hit somewhere close to home. 

It was a risk, going there; Ren is pretty sure everyone in the store knows about his own parents, and Hux could easily have thrown it back in his face. 

Hux seems strangely disinclined to argue, though. Ren sneaks a peek at him through his hair, and Hux has returned to mechanically eating his sandwich. Maybe he's nursing a hangover of his own.

Ren stands up, wincing at the harsh scrape of the chair against the floor. "I'm clocking in," he says, unnecessarily.

"You do that," Hux murmurs.

Ren sighs pointedly, and heads to the floor.

 

— 

 

**Saturday:**

Ren snaps on some cheap, latex-free gloves and begins dragging the rubber mats that line the bar area to the back room. Hux snorts.

"Too good to get your hands dirty?"

Ren doesn't even spare Hux a glance — well, not much of a glance — as he lugs a mat past him. "These are disgusting," he says sharply. _Like you_ , he thinks, but admirably restrains himself from saying aloud. "You can do floors if you're so keen on getting filthy."

"I'll pass," Hux says. He raises an eyebrow and leans against the countertop, obviously gaining some sort of pleasure from watching Ren engage in manual labor.

It's ridiculous — they work together at least two nights a week; it's not like Hux has never seen him _do things_ before. But somehow, it's like the counting down of days has heightened everything. New extremes of customer service; new obsessions with store cleanliness; new fascinations, apparently, with coworker activities.

Mats safely stowed in back, offending gloves disposed of, Ren viciously attacks the floors with the broom. He's not sure why Hux is able to needle him so sharply right now, but for whatever reason, Hux's attacks are really getting to him. Maybe he's more on edge, too.

Really, Ren reflects, he should try and be more in touch with his own feelings. If he's going to be a writer — well, he is a writer; if he's going to be a _successful_ writer, he needs to be able to embrace the full spectrum of human emotion.

As it is, he's just kind of embracing a desire to punch his coworker in the dick.

"You're in my way," Hux snaps. Ren looks up from where he's stabbing at a stubborn lid hiding behind a pipe.

"Maybe you're in _my_ way," Ren snaps back. Maybe not his best comeback ever. Hux rolls his eyes. 

Ren jabs with the broom again, and the lid comes loose. He sweeps it into the dustpan quickly, before it gets any funny ideas about freedom.

" _Your majesty_ ," he says, gesturing expansively with the hand not holding the broom as he steps out from between Hux and the espresso machine.

Hux lip twitches into something almost resembling a smile. "Thank you, peasant," he says. 

"I think," Ren says calmly, "you will find that I am anything but."

He stalks off, broom in hand, to sweep the other end of the floors.

"King Brendol," Hux says, like it's an idle musing. He clears the steam wand, pours his shots, and drizzles caramel on top of the drink. "Or Emperor. What do we think of Emperor Hux?"

Ren doesn't even dignify that with a response. 

Deeming the floors sufficiently swept, he goes to grab the mop.

When he comes back, Hux has one arm propped on top of the register as he leans over and into the personal space of the customer he's just handed a cup of coffee. He appears, from this angle, to be smiling. Hux is, Ren is 98% sure, _flirting_.

This is fascinating. He has to see it up close.

The boy (boy!) that Hux is talking to is tall, broad-shouldered, his hair hidden under a knit cap.

"My band is playing next Saturday," the boy is saying. Ren has to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes at how cliche this is. "You should come. Here, let me take your number; I can text you the info."

"Sure," Hux says, and takes the boy's phone, punching in his number. "Hey, I gotta get back to work. It was good meeting you."

"You, too." The boy smiles. Their hands touch as Hux hands the phone back. The touch _lingers_. Ren wants to gag.

He's not sure what expression he's got on his face when Hux turns to look at him, but it must not be a pleasant one, as Hux's own visage darkens considerably.

"I don't want to hear a —" he mouths the word _fucking_ "— word from you. You can keep your homophobic bullshit to yourself, okay?"

Ren blinks. Stares at Hux. Thinks, _I'm queer_ , loud enough that Hux can probably hear it. 

"Do you …" He pauses. "Do you really think I'd give you shit for being gay? Do you really think I _care_?"

Hux scowls. "I don't know what you care about." He stalks off to the back room, head high, leaving Ren alone on the floor.

Ren looks at the mop as if it has answers. If it does, it's not forthcoming.

The bell over the door chimes. Ren stows the mop in a corner and washes his hands before joining the customer at the register.

"Are you still open?" she asks.

Ren sighs.

"Till 8," he says.

"Great!" she says brightly, and orders four drinks.

Ren turns toward the back room and shouts, " _Hux_!" 

When Hux doesn't emerge, Ren sighs again and heads over to the bar. That's fine. Hux can … sulk, or take a shit, or text his new boyfriend, or whatever he's doing back there. Phasma will be back from her break soon, and until then, Ren is more than perfectly capable of running this store without him.

Although he really does have to put the mats back.


	4. TWO WEEKS

**Wednesday:**

"I'm going to Takodana, I think," Rey says. "But Maz hasn't said for sure. Where are you guys going?"

"I haven't heard yet," Ren says. He takes a swig of his americano, and pointedly doesn't wince when it's still too hot. He's sitting at the counter next to Rey; his usual table had been taken when he'd come in early to get some writing done, and she's sticking around after her shift. Finn is on bar. Two of these things may be related.

"Poe and I are both going to D'Qar, I'm pretty sure," Finn says. "Berry hibiscus refresher!" It sounds like it's part of the conversation; Finn needs to work on calling out his orders more loudly. Still, the customer comes and gets their drink. Finn smiles brightly at them. Rey smiles brightly at Finn. It's disgusting.

"I think Dan is going to B'Ris," Finn adds. He sounds like he's letting them in on some really juicy gossip.

"Which Dan?" Ren asks. He takes another, slightly more tentative, sip of his americano. He taps the end of his pen against the shut cover of his notebook. He really should be working; his coworkers and their idle chatter are only an impediment to his actual goals. 

Finn calls out another drink, hands it off, before he turns back to Ren. "Girl Dan," he clarifies. "Boy Dan is going to Jakku." He makes a face, probably without realizing it; everyone here has heard the terrible story of the shift Finn had picked up at Jakku one morning. 

Ren takes another sip of his drink and taps his pen more fervently on his notebook. He weighs the pros and cons of asking this question, but well, it's not like the person in question will ever be forthcoming with _him_. And he can't deny his curiosity any longer.

"Do either of you know where Hux is going?"

Dead silence from both Rey and Finn. They both turn to stare at him. 

Slowly, a smile spreads across Rey's face. "You're gonna _miiiiisssss_ him," she sing-songs.

Ren scoffs. "I just want to make sure I'm as far away from him as possible."

" _Miss him_ ," Rey sings again. Her smile has transformed itself into a smirk.

Ren rifles through his bag and finally pulls out a pair of headphones, fitting them on carefully so as to disturb his hair as little as possible. He'll be wearing a hat in a little bit, but for now he can try and salvage his dignity. "I'm ignoring you now," he announces, and opens his notebook.

>   
> 
> 
>   
>  _The couple were humanoid, but their verdigris skin marked them as clearly not natives of Zaetov._
> 
> _Ttam sighed and paced the room in front of them. The lovebirds were the only witnesses he'd found so far, but they'd been too busy canoodling to see much. They were still too busy canoodling to be much help at all._
> 
> _Ttam slammed his fist on the wall. The male startled. The female regarded him with the cool, impassive gaze she'd maintained for the entire interaction._
> 
> _"You saw_ nothing _?" the detective hissed. "How is that possible? There were only ten people in the entire kaf, according to the holo feeds. And you just happened to miss out on one of those people getting killed?"_
> 
> _"We saw nothing," the male repeated. He tried to match the serenity of his mate's gaze, but failed. Her grip on his hand tightened; Ttam could see it._
> 
> _The hotel room was sparse, but he still wished he had a proper interrogation room. It was hard to get people to take him seriously when his base of operations had a paisley bedspread._
> 
> _It was time to take serious action. There was no circumstance in which Ttam ever wanted to call on his mortal enemy … his true rival … but he had heard Brayln Hax was on-planet. And that couldn't be a coincidence._  
> 
> 
>   
> 

—

 

**Friday:**

"Phazzy," Ren says. He leans back against the counter. "I'm going to kill him."

Phasma shoots him the side-eye. "You're not going to kill him. You love him."

"Ha ha ha," Ren says, deadpan. "You don't even know who I'm talking about."

"You're talking about Bren," Phasma says, equally deadpan, "and you love him. He left two hours ago; what are you even still mad about?"

Ren huffs. "Did you not hear what he said when he left?"

Phasma finally looks up from where she's been writing in the cash management log. "... 'Goodbye'?" she guesses.

"Yes, but did you hear the way he _said_ it?"

"Oh my god," Phasma says. "You two need to just —" she looks around at the near-empty cafe, and lowers her voice just in case there are any customers she can't see, "— fuck and get it over with already."

Ren wrinkles his nose. "Phaz," he says, "that's _disgusting_. _You're_ disgusting."

Phasma slams the cash management log onto the top of the safe with a very final-sounding _smack_. Ren absolutely does not scurry off, but he does very suddenly remember that the second bar needs to be broken down immediately.

It's a slow night. They've all been slow nights, lately — frankly, Ren isn't surprised they're getting shut down. He'd kind of hoped there'd be a resurgence in customers once word got out that they were closing, some sort of last desperate dash to save the store, but no such luck.

The one guy in the cafe right now is a Gold card member who gets a tall coffee and infinite free refills, and he'll probably be here till close. He's one of Ren's least favorite kinds of people; the list of people Ren doesn't like is a long one, and this guy is close to the bottom. At least close is _soon_.

He takes a peek at his phone while he's in back doing dishes; he's got nothing pressing to do until the sanitizer finishes running. No new messages. Which is good: his mom has been texting him lately, and he's been resolutely ignoring every one of her texts. It makes him feel a little bit guilty, but he's done with his family. Done with them.

He's going to be working at Starbucks forever to pay off his goddamn student loans, but it's better than working at his parents' cafe in small town Ohio. The irony of going from Resistance Roastery to Starbucks isn't lost on him, but he'd rather be a tool of The Man than stay at home. 

Besides, he has his own uses for The Man. Free coffee fuels creativity, and his creativity is running wild. He's gotten thousands of words of his novel done just in the last month since school's been out, and that's even with picking up more shifts.

The sanitizer chugs to a stop and Ren opens its door carefully, standing to the side to avoid getting a face full of steam. Once the heat has dissipated somewhat, he grabs the bar parts to bring them back up to the front.

"Are you done sulking?" Phasma asks. She leans against the back counter, watching him put the espresso machine back together.

"I'm not _sulking_ ," Ren says, perhaps more sullenly than would have proved his point. "I just don't get what his _deal_ is."

It's 50/50 on Phaz either shrugging or literally facepalming, but he won't give her the satisfaction of turning around to look.

"Why are you two so _weird_ about each other?"

"I'm not _weird_ about him," Ren snaps. He hits the button to run the espresso machine's cleaning cycle, and finally turns around to face Phasma. She's got her arms crossed over her chest. She's pulled herself up to her full height, which is somehow intimidating even though she's not any taller than Ren is.

"Get over it," she says. "You've got two weeks together. Make nice."

"I will if he will," Ren mutters.

Phasma rolls her eyes.

 

—

 

**Sunday:**

The first thing Hux says when he gets on the floor is, "Isn't Phasma supposed to be closing?"

Ren restrains himself from rolling his eyes, but it's tough. There's a part of him that feels almost bad for Hux — closing with Snoke is never easy, and it's worse when it's a surprise. But Phaz had needed the night off.

The second thing Hux says, rounding on Ren when he doesn't answer, is, "Why are _you_ here, for that matter?"

Ren shrugs languidly. "Girl Dan and I switched."

"The schedule is flexible." Snoke's voice is loud and monotone, booming out from the back room. Ren barely manages not to flinch. Hux does flinch, just a little; it's a twitch of his eye and a tightening of his mouth more than anything.

Ren has no idea how Snoke even _heard_ them. He's been in the back doing paperwork since he got here. 

"You can take register," Ren says, almost kindly, as if it's some sort of gift. Hux rolls his eyes, and Ren allows himself a tiny, private smile.

The first person Hux rings up is Poe, on his way out the door, and he's the last for a while. 

It's not a comfortable silence. There's never been a comfortable anything, with Hux, as far as Ren is concerned. Hux wipes things down, brews coffee, rings up a small handful of people. Ren makes maybe half a dozen drinks over the course of an hour. He re-FIFOs the bar fridge. He makes a whipped cream. 

"So," he says finally. "How was the show?"

Hux arches an eyebrow at him. "Show?"

"Last night," Ren clarifies. "Your new boyfriend's show. How was it?"

Hux outright _scowls_. "He's not my boyfriend."

Ren doesn't respond, lets the moment stretch out. Finally he murmurs, quietly enough as to be barely audible over the music, "So it didn't go well."

Hux remains silent. He organizes the point of sale snacks. He brews more coffee. He glares at Ren throughout.

Finally, Hux breaks.

"He was an ass," he snaps, voice low but tone adamant. "He was an ass and his band was terrible, is that what you wanted to hear?"

Ren feels his lips twitch up at the corners. "Wonderful," he says. 

There are two hours left until Ren gets to go home. Somehow, taking in the look of misery on Hux's face, he suspects they'll be enjoyable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because i couldn't figure out a way to gracefully insert this into the text: for those of you lucky enough not to know, FIFO stands for "first in first out," and is a method of organizing things so that the product that expires first is sold first!


	5. ONE WEEK

**Monday:**

**> >Dan (boy) sbux:** IDEA: Party!  
**> >Dan (boy) sbux:** Specifically, a party for all of us before our store closes.  
**> >Dan (girl) sbux:** specifically a party at hunan palace? is everyone down with Chinese food?  
**> >Dan (girl) sbux:** (Rey they're veg friendly)  
**> >Phasma sbux:** Are you two sitting next to each other texting us  
**> >Dan (girl) sbux:** maybe  
**> >Dan (boy) sbux:** No.  
**> >Poe sbux:** Aren't they BYOB?  
**> >Dan (boy) sbux:**   
**> >Poe sbux:** In.  
**> >Finn sbux:** YEAH!  
**> >Phasma sbux:** Sounds fun  
**> >Rey sbux:** Sunday, so openers can come?  
**> >Dan (girl):** hell yeah!  
**> >Rey sbux:** I'm in!  
**> >Hux sbux:** Sure.  
**> >Dan (boy) sbux:** Ren?

 

—

 

**Sunday:**

The Chinese place is small; their party takes up half of it, and they're all squished at a cramped little table laden down with food. They're the only people in there, no less, and it's not long until they're shouting loudly over each other.

Poor Phaz is sandwiched between Hux and Ren, although Ren supposes that's fairly status quo for her, if usually somewhat less literally. She keeps stealing broccoli off Ren's plate, and Ren's stolen her beer in retribution. 

Rey is sitting across from him; as the token vegetarians they'd gotten stuck together at this end of the table, splitting a couple entrees. She's wearing that mossy shade of green again that looks so good on her, and Ren is about 90% sure she's holding hands with Finn under the table. He wonders how they'll deal with being transferred to different stores. Maybe it'll be good for them, not to be together all the time.

Phasma excuses herself to the bathroom and Ren finds himself suddenly under Hux's burning gaze. 

"What," he snaps. Hux shakes his head and grabs another beer from the rapidly depleting six-pack in the center of the table, their second of the night, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes a long, slow, steady sip. Ren finds himself watching the slow swallow of Hux's throat, the bob of his adam's apple, and he's glad when Phasma sits down between them again. He hands her her beer back. Clearly he's had enough to drink. 

"Hey," Boy Dan says, as if on cue. "Who wants to go to the bar after this?"

Rey, Finn, and Girl Dan groan in unison, the sad call of the underage. 

"Don't you open tomorrow?" Poe asks. He reaches across the table with adept chopstick skills to steal a bite of Girl Dan's orange chicken; she makes a faintly outraged sound, but it's a token protest.

Boy Dan shrugs. "There's a dive by my place that I like a lot; if we go there I can have a drink and still be up in time."

"Snoke's opening," Rey warns. "He'll know if you're hungover." Boy Dan shrugs again.

Settling the tab takes a while (Poe had suggested stealing the store credit card, but this had been vetoed), but it's not terribly long before they're all out in the bracing summer heat. 

They say their goodbyes, and the kids peel off.

Boy Dan calls an Uber, and before long they're all piled into someone's tiny car. Dan's in the front to give directions, Poe (by virtue of being shortest) is sitting on Phaz's lap, and Ren and Hux are squished uncomfortably against each other. 

"Fucking — _move_ ," Ren says, and shoves his shoulder into Hux's. He's pressed up against the car door in an attempt to stay as far away as possible, but he can feel the heat of Hux's leg pressed up against him. 

"I can't _move_ ," Hux hisses. "I don't think there's room for me on Phasma's lap."

"I have no room for either of you," Phasma says haughtily. "Poe, hit them for me." Her own arms are wound around Poe's waist, holding him in place. Poe laughs brightly, and reaches out to lightly swat both Ren and Hux on the tops of their heads.

It's not a long ride, but it _feels_ long, with Hux's body flush against his own.

The bar by Boy Dan's house is, in fact, a dive. Ren wrinkles his nose at the sight of it, but when they get inside it's as warm and homey as the Chinese restaurant had been.

Ren gets another beer; the two and a half he'd had at dinner were enough to set him buzzing slightly, so he figures there's no real need to go for anything harder. Beer before liquor, and all that.

"To the death of Republic," Poe says, lifting his drink in the air. They toast.

It's not too long before Boy Dan says his farewells. Poe hugs him like he's going off to war, and even Hux musters up an enthusiastic back pat. Ren offers to buy him a parting shot, but Dan laughs him off. "I've got to be up way too early," he says. "I'll see you later!"

And they will see each other. There's days left. Days.

Still, Ren's in the mood now. "Who here drinks whiskey?" he asks, and Phaz and Poe both raise their hands. Hux eyes Ren skeptically, and doesn't say anything. 

Ren orders a round. It's Fireball, which Phaz says doesn't technically count as whiskey, but she doesn't turn the shot down. 

"It's like candy," Ren says, and holds a shotglass out toward Hux.

"I didn't say I wanted one," Hux snaps. 

Ren rolls his eyes. "Just drink it."

"I didn't _ask you_ to buy me _anything_ ," Hux says.

Poe thumps Hux on the shoulder. "Do the shot," he says, weirdly authoritative. Hux scowls, but takes the shot glass.

"To Starbucks!" Phasma says with a laugh, holding her shot glass aloft. 

"To Starbucks!" 

It's quiet enough in the bar that they're getting a few looks from the other patrons, but everything's glowing with a warm amber light and Ren has another beer and he's pretty sure he's smiling a little goofily. He's definitely drunk.

He leans onto the bar, one elbow in something slightly sticky. "Hey," he says to the bartender, "could I get a water?"

Next to him, Hux snorts. He mutters something that sounds like, "Weak."

Ren rounds on him. "Sorry if I don't want to be fucking miserable tomorrow. _Thank you_ ," he says to the bartender, a little more shortly than he meant to, and drops a dollar on the bar for tip.

"You're always miserable," Hux says.

Ren sneers. "Only when I'm with you."

"Thank god that won't be for much longer."

"I'm fucking ready to be done with you," Ren says. He downs his water, miraculously not choking on it, and slams the cup down on the bar. It's plastic, and doesn't have quite the resonance he's looking for; it crumples slightly in his grip.

Hux narrows his eyes. "I've _been_ done with you," he says. He takes a step closer. Ren straightens up and leans in, using the two inches he's got on Hux to his full advantage.

" _Hey_." Phasma steps between them. "Do I have to send you boys home?"

Ren mumbles, "No," at the same time Hux does; it would be funny if it weren't embarrassing: both the response and the fact that they're being chastised to begin with.

"Too bad!" Phasma says. "You're both cut off. Do I need to call you a cab?"

"No," Ren says again, just barely louder than Hux saying, "I can take the train."

Poe looks over from where he's been chatting — flirting, probably, knowing him — with the bartender. "Everything okay?" he asks, looking concerned.

"Yes. Everyone is behaving like _adults_ ," Phasma says pointedly.

She walks them to the station like they're errant children. She strolls ahead, resplendent in the streetlights; she seems sober, somehow, despite the fact that Ren knows she's had at _least_ as much to drink as he has. Ren and Hux follow her, sulky and recalcitrant.

"Go _home_ ," she says, when they finally reach the station. She must have been a kindergarten teacher in a past life, Ren reflects, or a military commander. Maybe the latter, if the way she turns heel and marches back off into the dark is any indication.

They make their way to the train platform.

"... I'm headed north," Hux offers awkwardly.

Ren stares at him. "Me, too," he says finally.

It's a long several minutes of staring at each other before the train rolls into the station. The doors open with a loud _ding_.

They sit across from each other.

The train car is nearly empty; there's a bum sleeping over at the other end, and a trio of giggly sorority-types near the middle. There's plenty of room. There was no need for them to sit near each other at all.

Ren glares at Hux. Hux pulls out his phone and starts thumbing through it. His lips quirk into the tiniest smile.

"What are you looking at on there? _Porn_?" Ren spits. It's not the most clever thing he's ever said. Hux raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything.

Ren wraps his arms around himself and sinks into the seat. He taps his fingers on his arm. He taps his feet on the floor of the car.

"I can't believe you're just ignoring me," he says finally. He doesn't even know where Hux's stop _is_. They could be on this train for another two minutes, or another fifteen, or — and they're never going to see each other again. They've only got one shift left together, and then they're done. Forever.

Thank god. 

_Good_.

"What would you have me say," Hux says mildly. He doesn't look up from his phone. Ren knows Hux has had as much to drink as Ren has; why doesn't he seem nearly as affected?

Before Ren realizes it, he's crossed the aisle of the train and sat himself next to Hux. If he leans on Hux's shoulder in service of looking at his phone, well, that's a risk he's taking.

It doesn't make a bit of difference either way; Hux locks his phone with such a degree of finality it's almost like he'd snapped it shut. Really, Ren is a bit surprised Hux doesn't have a classic Nokia, or something; he seems like the sort. He seems like … seems like …

" _Benjamin Organa_ ," Hux is saying.

"Don't you _dare_ ," Ren hisses.

Hux bristles. Ren can almost imagine his hair standing on end, like some sort of small animal trying to look bigger than it is. Which is silly: Hux is his height, more or less, and he's certainly not _small_. _Slight_ , maybe. Slim. Svelte. Ren's brain throws up synonyms faster than he can really process them right now.

"Would you quit staring," Hux snaps. He shoves his phone roughly into his jacket pocket, like he's worried Ren is going to steal it and look at his porn or whatever.

"I'm thinking about your …" Ren gestures up and down, an attempt to encompass the whole of Hux's body. From the expression on Hux's face — a sort of disgruntled frown making its way into a sneer — this explanation is either lacking or unsatisfactory.

Ren reaches out, as if in slow motion, and trails his fingers along Hux's jaw. He places two fingers under Hux's chin and tips his head up, but it's the shifting of the train that actually brings them together.

Their lips barely graze against each other but that's enough. Ren's hand slides down Hux's jaw and wraps itself around the back of his neck, holding him close. Hux bites at Ren's lower lip and Ren lets out a small, soft sound, his lips parting for Hux's tongue.

It's only a moment before Hux is climbing into Ren's lap, hands pressing to the wall on either side of Ren's head as he straddles him. Ren wraps his hands around Hux's slim waist, and Hux moans into his mouth.

"Your hands," Hux pants out against Ren's lips. "Your huge stupid fucking hands."

Ren smirks. "Thought about me?"

Hux doesn't respond, just nips at Ren's lip again, and the smile dissolves into another kiss.

The train slows to a stop; it jostles them enough that Ren tightens his fingers on Hux's waist, pulling him closer. He can feel Hux shudder. The doors open, close again with a loud _ding_.

"Fuck," Hux curses, wrenching his face away from Ren's long enough to look out the window as the train pulls away from the station. "That was my stop."

Ren takes a deep breath. He's just sober enough that he can't believe he's about to say this, but … "Come to mine?"

Hux turns back to Ren. Their eyes lock. And slowly, Hux nods. 

"Okay," he says quietly, and leans in for another kiss.

When they finally pull apart, the sorority girls applaud. Hux blushes, a red flush across his cheeks and heating up the tips of his ears. Ren laughs at him, not unkindly, and Hux shuts him up by kissing him again.

Several minutes and several stations later, the train slows to a stop. "This is me," Ren murmurs. His hands have wrapped themselves around Hux's hips, and he holds on tight even as he's pushing Hux to stand.

It's a five-minute walk from the train to Ren's apartment. The night has gotten hotter, somehow; Ren feels like he's swimming through the night air. He keeps a hand on Hux's waist the whole time, or on his hip, or his ass, guiding him forward. They don't say anything. The air is humid, electric between them. Hux presses Ren up against a tree, and they don't kiss so much as breathe in each other's air, one of Hux's legs pressed up between Ren's.

They barely make it up the stairs, and Ren drops his keys trying to unlock the door. He drops his messenger bag the second they get inside, and Hux has undone the last of his buttons by the time Ren's gotten the door locked, shirt falling off his shoulders and to the floor.

Ren hooks his hand onto the hem of Hux's undershirt and tugs him along that way, through the door of his bedroom and onto the bed. Hux crawls on top of him.

"God," Ren breathes out. Hux leans in and bites at his collarbone through his t-shirt, and Ren exhales sharply. He shifts until he's mostly upright and tugs his shirt off, tossing it somewhere into the dark of the room, and Hux moves in again, licking a wet stripe over Ren's collarbone before biting down again. The sound Ren makes this time is more of a keen.

Hux looks up. "Biting okay?"

"Biting _very_ okay," Ren says, breathless. Hux goes back to work, sucking a hickey into the thin skin. Ren's hips jolt upward, and Hux breaks away to groan.

He moves back up to bite at Ren's mouth instead, tiny sharp nips at Ren's lower lip that keep Ren twitching. Ren digs his nails into Hux's shoulders. Hux lets out a quiet _Mm!_. Ren smiles against Hux's teeth.

Ren gets a hand between them and drags it across the front of Hux's jeans, palming Hux's dick. Hux makes a strangled sound and drops his head to Ren's shoulder; Ren twists his fingers, tries to unbutton Hux's jeans and curses loudly when he can't. 

" _Fuck_ , Hux, what kind of —"

"Here, hey." Hux cuts him off, peels himself away from Ren enough to sit up and unbutton his own jeans. Ren stares, watching each tooth of the zipper fall away like Hux's jeans contain the secrets of the universe. What's revealed instead are pretty standard-issue black and grey briefs, and then the smooth line of Hux's chest as he pulls his undershirt off.

His jeans are still just shoved down to his knees when Ren pulls him back down for another kiss. He slots neatly between Ren's spread legs and it's only when Ren hooks a leg around the back of Hux's thighs that he realizes he's still got his boots on.

"Fuck, fuck." It's not arousal this time, and his tone clearly indicates that if the way Hux sits up, a look of alarm on his face, is any indication. "No —" Ren laughs, a touch awkwardly. "It's. Fuck. You're good. Shoes."

"Oh, hell." Hux turns red again; Ren wants to taste it, see if Hux's cheeks will burn his tongue.

It breaks the moment, the two of them sitting next to each other at the foot of Ren's bed. Hux's loafers are the work of seconds, but it takes longer for Ren to unlace his Docs. Hux stands up while he's doing it, and for a heartbeat Ren is convinced he's going to leave — but Hux just shimmies out of his jeans, kicks them on top of his shoes and lays back down.

"Hurry up," Hux growls, and Ren pulls the second boot off. He sheds his own jeans while he's at it — skinnier than Hux's, and a more laborious process. He toes off his socks, leaves his underwear on after a moment's hesitation.

He stands at the foot of the bed, facing Hux: Hux, of all people, sprawled over Ren's sheets with his legs spread invitingly. Ren crawls between them, lines their dicks neatly up against each other, and catches the hiss that escapes Hux's mouth in his own.

"Thanks for not running away," Ren mumbles, as genuinely as he can manage, against Hux's teeth. He can feel Hux stiffen beneath him — not his dick; the rest of him. Feels Hux's hands on his shoulders, pushing him away.

" _Fuck_ ," Ren says. "That's not what — get —"

Hux slides out from under Ren's hands, almost knees him in the groin attempting to get the rest of the way out. "Run _away_?" His voice is indignant, pitched a little high. He stands up, shoves Ren roughly down onto his back, and Ren is barely able to catch his wrist and hold him there.

"Come back." Ren presses a kiss to the heel of Hux's hand, to his knuckles where Hux has folded his fingers in. "That's not what I meant. Fuck, Hux, I'm —"

"Drunk?" Hux guesses. "Terrible?" But he's not moving away anymore. His fingers uncurl in Ren's grip. Ren tugs, just slightly, and that's all it takes for Hux to fold, climb back onto the bed. Ren keeps a hold on his wrist, lays another open-mouthed kiss on the heel of his hand.

Hux straddles him, grabs his hand — the one not holding Hux's — and pulls it up over his head, pins it to the bed. He twists his other hand in Ren's grasp and Ren goes willingly, lets that hand get pinned too. Hux bends back down to bite on the hickey he'd left earlier, and Ren arches up into it. Hux shifts slightly and leans in to bite at one of Ren's nipples. Ren feels like the moan is ripped out of him.

"Yeah?" Hux's breath is hot against Ren's flesh, and Ren moans again. He can feel the quirk of Hux's lips against his chest, and he strains upward, determined to get Hux's teeth on him again without having to ask for it.

Hux, it seems, has other ideas. "What do you want?" he asks. He sits up. Ren squirms against him.

"What do you _want_?" Hux asks again. "You goddamn stubborn bastard."

Ren doesn't say anything, and Hux's grip on his wrists tightens, almost enough to be uncomfortable. He cants his hips upward, but he doesn't have the leverage to press himself up against Hux. He can _see_ how hard Hux is in his shorts, has a direct line of sight to it, but he makes himself look Hux in the eyes.

" _Fuck you_ ," he spits.

Hux smirks. "Is that what you want?" He leans back down and licks at Ren's nipple, tiny delicate laps, switches to the other one and does the same thing. Ren screws his eyes tightly shut, breathes in harshly, pushes his wrists up against Hux's grip just so Hux will push them back down.

"Stop it," Ren finally gasps out, head thrown back, shoulders pulled taut. "Stop being so — so fucking _soft_."

Hux doesn't say anything, just bites down on Ren's pec, _hard_. Ren doesn't shriek, but it's a close call; he practically bites through his own lip keeping it in. The noise he lets out is still pretty undignified, but then Hux is leaning back up to bite at his lip for him. 

"You're so fucking easy," Hux murmurs. Ren doesn't even protest, just brings a leg up to wrap around Hux's waist, bringing him in and pulling their dicks flush again. Hux gasps, this time.

They stay like that for a while, Ren's heel in the small of Hux's back, rocking back and forth against each other. They breathe heavily into each other's mouths, sometimes remembering to kiss. Ren's head falls back again, and Hux bites softly at the underside of his jaw. Ren thinks about warning him not to leave a mark, and then Hux thrusts up against him and he forgets. 

It's hotter than it should be; Ren is more aroused than he knows what to do with. And he can feel, he can feel how into it Hux is, can feel every twitch of Hux's dick against his own, even through their underwear.

 _God_ , he thinks, and then Hux says, " _God_. Want you inside me."

Ren's hips stutter to a halt.

"What," he says. His voice sounds wrecked, even to him.

" _Fuck me_ ," Hux says. He sounds angry. His face is tucked into the crook of Ren's neck, and he pumps his hips against Ren's again. His fingers tighten on Ren's wrists.

Ren breathes out. One, two, three.

"... I don't have any condoms," he says finally.

Hux sits up sharply, releasing Ren's wrists. Ren flexes his fingers, but doesn't move his hands.

"Well _I_ don't have any," Hux growls.

Ren's head thumps back against the bed. " _Fuck_."

Hux breathes out, loud and shaky. "It's fine," he says. "We don't need them. We can —"

"What? No," Ren protests. "I'm not fucking you without a condom."

Hux glares at him. "I was going to say, _we can do something else_."

"Oh," Ren murmurs, contrite. He shuts his eyes, so it's a surprise when Hux's hand drags up the line of his dick. He gasps out, a breathy sound.

"Have you not moved your hands?" Hux sounds amused, pleased. He wraps his hand around Ren's dick through his underwear. "You're being so good, aren't you?"

"Hux," Ren protests. He shuts his eyes tighter. Over his head, his hands squeeze into fists.

Hux's hand drags up and down his dick, palm fitting neatly over the head and the wet spot forming there. "So good," he says again, wonderingly.

"I hate you," Ren groans, and Hux leans in, kisses him again.

"Just," Ren says, and he moves his hands finally so he can tug at Hux's shoulders. He pulls Hux back down on top of him, Hux's hand trapped between them, and thrusts up against him. 

Hux huffs out a laugh. "What," he says, "do you just want to hump each other like teenagers?"

"Yeah," Ren says. "Kinda." 

Hux doesn't say anything, just squeezes Ren's dick again, startling a moan from him, and then works his hand out from between them. Hux rocks down against him, and again, until they find a rhythm. They move against each other, slowly and then faster. Ren's hands stay clasped to Hux's shoulders. 

One of Hux's hands plants on the bed next to Ren's head; the other finds its way to Ren's hair where it's spread against the pillow and he tangles his fingers in it, tugging just slightly. Ren moans softly. 

"You're such a masochist," Hux says. He sounds surprised, delighted.

"Shut the fuck up," Ren says. He doesn't deny it.

Hux bites down on Ren's adam's apple, quick and sharp, and Ren shouts. His hips buck up. Hux says his name pointedly, spits it out like he's in trouble. But it's too late; Ren can't stop himself from rutting up against Hux, can't stop the little _uh, uh, uh_ s that spill from his lips.

"I'm gonna — christ, Hux, I'm gonna come —"

But he doesn't. Hux moves away, sits up and moves off of him, shrugging off his hands, and Ren lets out a soft keening sound.

"Hux, _what_." Ren struggles to sit up. He's achingly hard in his underwear, and the loss of pressure on his dick is like a physical pain.

"Not before I get my hand on you," Hux says. It sounds like a threat, like a promise. It sounds … just like Hux. Ren laughs, despite himself. 

"Always a competition," he says.

Hux's face darkens, just slightly, before it eases its way into a smirk. "Partner of the quarter, two quarters running."

Ren laughs again, brings one arm up to cover his eyes. "Are you bragging about _work_ while we're in _bed_? You're _awful_."

"Wonderful," Hux corrects, and drags one finger down the length of Ren's dick. Ren stops laughing. He twitches.

Hux reaches out with both hands and slowly, slowly, slowly eases Ren's underwear down over his dick. Ren lifts his hips obligingly but Hux doesn't pull them down much further, trapped under the swell of his ass, his balls still tucked inside. It's a little painful. It's… good.

It's better when Hux finally wraps his hand around Ren's dick. 

Ren lets out a choked little sob. He doesn't thrust up into the loose circle of Hux's fingers, but it's a close thing. His eyes are still covered but Hux is smirking, he'd bet on it. 

Slowly, Hux drags his thumb over the wet head of Ren's dick, through the precome beading there. Slowly, _slowly_ , he spreads that wetness around, uses it to ease his way as he jacks Ren once, twice. Slowly. And again, his hand moving at such a glacial pace Ren feels half like he's going to cry.

The " _Please_ " bursts out of him before he knows it's going to. "Please, god, Hux, please just —"

He rips his arm away from his face, needs both hands to hold himself up the way he's trembling. And Hux isn't smirking, not at all; he's staring at his hand on Ren's dick with an expression almost like awe.

Hux's eyes flicker up to Ren's face, then, see him looking, and he smirks after all. His grip tightens, and his pace quickens, and Ren makes an undignified sound.

"Please," he says again; he should be ashamed that he's begging, knows distantly that he should be ashamed, but he can't be, not with how much he _needs_ right now. "Please, Hux, please let me — can I —"

Hux soothes his thumb over the head again and presses down against the slit, and Ren's whole body twitches. "Please," he says again, and Hux's smirk transforms into a laugh.

" _Yeah_ ," he says, "Ren, come for me, c'mo —" and before he even finishes the word Ren is coming, collapsing back onto the bed behind him as his dick pulses out thick streams of come into Hux's hand.

"Look at you," Hux croons. "So good, aren't you? So good for me," and Ren moans. Hux lets go of Ren's dick and brings his hand up, tentative, to Ren's face; Ren turns into it, small licks at Hux's fingers before he takes two of them into his mouth. His own come is salty, unpleasant, but the taste is worth the wide-eyed look of wonder on Hux's face.

"Good," Hux says again, whispers it, and moves his other hand to stroke Ren's hair. He tangles his fingers in it, wraps it around his fist, and tugs just slightly. Ren lets out a soft, breathy sound around Hux's fingers, lets his eyes slip shut. 

"Harder," he whispers, and Hux complies, pulls harder on Ren's hair. Ren sucks harder on Hux's fingers, which crook behind his teeth, stretching his mouth open, before Hux removes them completely. 

"You look so good like this," Hux says, and it sounds so unabashedly honest that Ren's eyes fly open again. Hux has shoved his own underwear down, and the fingers that had been in Ren's mouth are now wrapped around his dick. Ren's eyes linger on Hux's dick, on the movements of his hand; it's only when Hux lets out a soft moan of his own, his fingers tightening in Ren' hair, that Ren looks up.

Hux's eyes are closed, his jaw lax, his breath heavy. His shoulders heave with the efforts of his hand. 

"Come on me," Ren urges. He hadn't meant to say it, hadn't meant to say anything, but Hux's hair has fallen into his eyes and he's flushed red all the way down to his chest. Ren wants Hux's dick in his mouth, wants it suddenly and fiercely, but he's not sure he has it in him to give good head right now. And Hux looks like he's close — looks so close, and Ren can almost feel it, Hux's come splattering hot on his chest — 

And then he _can_ feel it, Hux coming with a long, low groan, across Ren's belly and up his chest and onto his chin. 

"Fuck," Hux says, and then, " _Ren_ ," like it's wrenched out of him. 

" _Yeah_ ," Ren agrees.

Hux collapses then, just _falls_ , and Ren has barely enough sense to shift enough that Hux lands on the mattress and not on _him_. 

"Christ," Hux mumbles into the pillow.

"Yeah," Ren says again, breathy. As Hux's come cools on him he realizes how _hot_ it is in his apartment, wishes he'd had the thought to turn the a/c on before stumbling into bed. He should do that, go turn it on, go clean himself off —

In a minute, he thinks, and closes his eyes again.

It's a laborious process to rouse himself, but he does, shakes the sleep out of his eyes and pushes himself up and out of bed. "Be right back," he says, and Hux makes a sleepy noise of affirmation. Ren tucks his dick back into his underwear and heads for the main room of his apartment. 

The window a/c unit is on the way to the bathroom so he stops to turn it on, gives it a smack for good measure; it's stupid and finicky and finally clatters to life as Ren walks into the bathroom.

He flips the light switch on and immediately regrets it; one glance in the mirror is more than enough to tell that he looks _wrecked_. His hair is in complete disarray, the bruise on his collar is blossoming spectacularly, and there's a streak of come dried on his chin. He grabs some toilet paper and wipes himself down as well as he can, washes his hands very thoroughly in the sink, splashes some cold water on his face. He runs a hand through his hair, but there's not much he can do at this point.

When he gets back to his room, Hux is snoring.

Ren should wake him up, kick him out … but. But. 

He climbs back into bed and curls up on his side, closes his eyes. It's not long before he feels Hux spoon up behind him, arm heavy against Ren's chest, breath hot on the back of his neck.

He falls asleep.

 

—

 

**Monday:**

The sun is streaming through his window; Ren can tell even through his eyelids. He can actually hear a bird singing, even over the insistent hum of the air conditioning. And when he opens his eyes, Brendol Hux is getting dressed.

Oh, fuck. Brendol Hux, who he slept with last night. _Fuck_.

Bren Hux, who he slept with, and who is now trying to sneak out of Ren's apartment.

"Fucking — get out then," Ren snaps.

Hux turns around so quickly he almost falls over. Ren pushes himself to sit upright.

"If you're in such a fucking _hurry_ ," Ren continues, sneering. "Just get out. Get the fuck out of my apartment."

Hux sighs, scrubs a hand through his hair, has a look on his face like _Ren_ is the one being irrational.

"I need to go _home_ , Ren," he says. "I need to _change_. Literally all of our coworkers saw me wearing this last night."

"I could lend you something!" Dimly, Ren realizes they're not really the same size — that Hux would swim in all but the tightest of Ren's shirts. That Ren doesn't even _have_ a work shirt in a size that would fit Hux. 

He's not sure why he's so concerned with being helpful. Either way, Hux scoffs.

"I'm not — christ, Ren, I'm not showing up to work in your clothing. That's more obvious than showing up to work in last night's clothes."

"Oh, so you're ashamed of me?"

"Ashamed of — for fuck's _sake_ , Ren. This isn't a matter of _shame_. I need a shower and a shave and a clean t-shirt, and to not get shit from our coworkers for the rest of our natural-born lives."

Ren groans, rolls over and buries his face into the pillow, groans again. Hux is, as much as he hates to admit it, right: they are going to get shit unto eternity if anyone ever finds out about this.

"What time do you even work? Don't you close?" He lifts his head just enough to see his phone when he grabs it off the nightstand. It's 9 AM.

"As touched as I am that you've memorized my schedule —" Ren makes an outraged sound, but Hux keeps talking, "— you surely realize that means _I need to go to work_. What, were you hoping for round two?" He snorts.

The bed dips, but when Ren looks up, Hux has just sat down to put on his shoes.

"Will the door lock behind me?" he asks, standing up.

"Yes," Ren snaps. "Now _get out of my apartment_."

He buries his face in the pillow again. After a moment, he hears the door click shut.

He falls asleep.

 

—

>   
>  _Her pale violaceous skin marked her as non-human, as did the length of her limbs when she stretched. She rolled over in bed to face him. One elongated hand covered her mouth as she yawned, jaw wide._
> 
> _"Good morning," she murmured. Her Basic was heavily intonated._
> 
> _"'Morning," Ttam replied. The night before came flooding back to him. The dark bar, the smile in her eyes. The dark purple points of her breasts in his hands. In his mouth. The way she'd writhed beneath him._
> 
> _He remembered everything but her name … if he'd ever known it._
> 
> _This had been a foolish divergence. He had a criminal to catch. A mystery to solve._
> 
> _"I have to go," he said brusquely._
> 
> _The alien girl pouted. Her lithe body twisted in the sheets. "So soon?" she asked._
> 
> _"I have work to do."_
> 
> _The detective stood up, and looked around the room for his clothes. Fortunately, that was one mystery that was easy to solve. He dressed quickly._
> 
> _"See you around," he said as he opened the door and headed outside. He would never see her again, he knew._  
> 


	6. ONE DAY

CHAPTER SIX: ONE DAY

 

**Friday:**

 

It's been four days.

Four days of Ren trying to put the whole stupid thing out of his mind, four days of watching the hickeys on his collar and on his throat fade down to dusky afterthoughts, four days of throwing himself into his writing and into work — work hours, thankfully, not shared with Hux.

But it's almost 2 PM, which means Ren's shift is about to start, which means he's got three and a half hours with Hux ahead of him.

Plus side: they're the _last_ three and a half hours they'll ever have to spend together. Because this is it. This is the last day of Republic. In just a few hours they'll be done: the store locked up for the last time, everyone going their separate ways.

It's … weird. It's weird and Ren isn't sure how to feel about it, besides weird. He's too preoccupied with thoughts of Hux — with forcefully _not_ thinking about Hux — to really think about the store.

Boy Dan comes into the back, clocks out, and collapses into a chair. "Hey," he says, his hat tilting down to cover his face.

"Are you _done_?" Ren asks. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks the time: still not quite two.

Boy Dan sighs. "Phaz cut me early. We're so slow it's like we're already closed."

Ren wrinkles his nose. "Ugh."

Boy Dan stands up, stretches languidly, and grabs his backpack from off the floor. He takes his apron off and shoves it into his bag, which he throws over his shoulder. "See ya," he says, and heads for the front.

He pauses, and turns around. "Oh, shit," he says. "See you … later?"

"See you around, man," Ren says, and forces a grin.

"See you around," Boy Dan echoes. "I'll text you," he adds, and walks out.

It's a nice thought, that they'll text, that they'll all keep in touch. Ren has his doubts. But it's a nice idea.

He checks his phone again. Two o'clock. He pulls his hair up into a bun. He puts his hat on. He pulls his apron over his head. He clocks in.

"Hey Phaz," he says coolly as he gets to the floor. He nods in vaguely Hux's direction. Hux nods back. Phasma sighs.

"Hey Ren," she says. "You can assign on the left."

"Cool."

He assigns a cash register, rifles through the cash to make sure he's got enough — Phasma's usually good about balancing the drawers, but it's best to be careful. It's hell to get caught without enough singles. Although if they're as dead as Dan had said, it probably doesn't matter much.

"So the good news," Phasma tells him, "is that we don't have to clean basically anything. All the equipment, the bars — but we don't have to worry about floors; we don't have to do any weeklies. Bren, we can probably get you out of here early, if you want."

Hux says, "Sure," a little too quickly for Ren's taste; he'd swear Hux is looking at him, except that would mean admitting he's looking at Hux. Which he's not. Obviously.

He hopes they get Hux out early. The sooner he's gone — the sooner they're out of each other's sights for good — the better.

The evening, of course, is slow. They have a grand total of two customers in Ren's first hour on the clock, and without anything to clean there's just … nothing to do.

"Has it been this slow all day?"

"Yes," Hux says shortly. Ren looks over at him, and they make eye contact for the first time since Ren stepped onto the floor; he would swear Hux is blushing, just slightly. Ren smirks.

A timer beeps, and Ren brews a fresh pot of coffee. A customer walks in, then another. Ren takes their orders. Hux makes their drinks. Phasma counts down Boy Dan's till.

"We _could_ do floors," Hux suggests finally. 

Ren looks up from the piece of receipt tape he's been doodling on. "Are you offering to do work?" he scoffs.

"You're one to talk." Hux sneers. "Over there writing your precious little book."

"Just because some of us have _passions_ —" Ren's voice is getting higher, louder, without him even realizing it. 

" _Passions_." Hux spits the word out. "You're about as _passionate_ as a —"

"OKAY." 

Ren hadn't even seen Phasma move, but now she's standing between them, glaring at each of them in turn. Her voice, when she speaks, is a whisper more intimidating than her yelling would be.

"That is _enough_ out of you two. I am not paid enough to be your fu— to be your babysitter. I don't know _what_ has gotten into you, and I literally do not care. Shut up. Go back to glaring at each other from across the room." She rounds on Hux. "Bren, you're still scheduled for another hour and a half. Do you want to go now?"

" _Yes_ ," Hux says fervently. 

Ren can't even see Phaz, but he knows she's rolling her eyes, so hard he can practically hear it. " _Go_ ," she says.

Hux goes.

When Phasma turns back to Ren, he does his best to look innocent. From the unimpressed look on her face, it isn't working.

"We," she starts, but whatever she's about to say is interrupted by the door opening. A woman pushing a double-wide stroller, a toddler trailing after her, walks in.

"Hi Suzette," Phasma says wearily, barely managing to slap on a smile. Ren slides over to bar.

 

—

 

Thursday:

>   
>  _The clap of the doors echoed through the hall, heralding his arrival. The room Ttam found himself in was shockingly bright compared to the eternal gloom of outside._
> 
> _The room was empty, cavernous and luminous, the ceilings impossibly high. The walls were decorated with radiantly-colored scrolls. They appeared to depict battles, although what sort of battles Ttam could not tell. The figures were faceless, their weapons primitive._
> 
> _This was where everything had lead. This was where the green-skinned couple had pointed. Where Psyla had sent him. The place that even Hax had dropped hints about._
> 
> _But where the building's occupants were … that was a yet another mystery for the dark-haired detective to solve._
> 
> _Wherever they were, they were sure to be clever. To be tricky, deceptive. They were certain to know what Ttam needed … and just as certain to keep it from him._
> 
> _He unholstered his blaster and crept soundlessly down the hall._  
> 

Ren tugs down on the bottom of his polo shirt to straighten it, looks in the mirror, grimaces. Tugs it over his head and off. He grabs a black shirt from his closet instead, watches himself in the mirror as he does up the buttons. It's stupid, even trying to impress the people at Ilum — at his new store. It's just another Starbucks; they're just more partners. He's just going to do the same job. 

Still. He wants to look nice. He scowls at himself in the mirror and runs a hand through his hair. It's getting long; he might need a haircut. Although it had felt so good when Hux …

Nevermind that.

He pulls it up into a bun. He lets it down again. Puts it back up. He sighs.

There is no need for him to be anxious. There should be no part of him, however small, that wants to call his mom for reassurance. 

There _definitely_ should be no part of him wondering what it will be like, working without Hux.

He's going to miss — everyone, really; Phazzy promised she'd still hang out with him, but he knows everyone is going to drift apart. He'll make nice with the people at his new store, and maybe some day he'll be able to call some of them friends. But …

He has to admit, he'll miss the sniping, the glaring, the _reliability_ of Hux's hatred for him. The constancy of his hatred for Hux.

He unbuttons the top button of his shirt. He lets his hair down. He does the button up again.

Okay. Okay. He's ready for this.

The train ride to the new store is fine — a little bit longer than the ride to Republic, but he still doesn't have to make any transfers. He ends up getting to work earlier than he'd meant to, but half an hour early isn't so terrible. It'll be good if he needs to fill out paperwork or anything. He can … relax.

There's a line when he walks in the door. Half an hour is a weird amount of time — get an americano, like he does when he's got the time to relax? Or an iced trippio, like he usually does when he first gets to work?

The latter, he's decided by the time he gets to the front of the line.

"I'm working here today," he tells the partner on register, and she raises an eyebrow at him.

"Another one?" she asks, but marks his drink out before he can ask what she means.

He moves over to the bar.

"Grande double chocolaty chip frappuccino for Jess," the partner on bar calls out. In an all too familiar voice. Ren feels his heart sink into his stomach. Oh no, oh no, oh _no_.

"Iced trippio for …" The voice trails off.

"Hey," Ren says. 

"Oh," Hux says.

" _Oh_ ," Ren says. There's a trace of mockery to his tone. There's a smile threatening to break out across his lips. "Do you … work here?"

"Is this your new store?" Hux asks at about the same time.

Ren nods.

"I'm on in twenty-five," he says.

Hux is still holding the cup with Ren's order. He thrusts it at him. "Take your f — stupid drink," he says.

Ren takes it. Their fingers brush. Hux, inexplicably, blushes.

"See you in a bit," Ren says. He can feel Hux's eyes on him as he wraps his lips around the straw.

"I guess I will." Hux's glare doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Since we seem to be stuck together."

"Stuck together," Ren echoes. 

"I guess," Hux says again. His cheeks are still red. 

"Can my caramel macchiato be skim?" says the woman standing next to Ren.

Hux startles. He looks down at the pitchers and the gallons of milk in front of him. "Of course," he says to the woman. He looks back at Ren. "Get out of here," he snaps. "Let me do my job."

The grin finally breaks through onto Ren's lips. "Certainly, your majesty." He takes another long, slurping sip of his trippio and deposits the now-empty cup in the trash. He salutes.

Hux glares at him, mutters something under his breath as he begins making another drink.

As Ren walks into the back room, he finds himself whistling. Maybe this can be a fresh start, for him and Hux. Maybe they'll get along this time. Maybe they'll … maybe they'll …

Nah.

He drops his messenger bag onto the floor and collapses into a chair. He takes in the back room shelving, the three-compartment sink, Hux's familiar army jacket hanging on a hook by the bathroom.

He smiles.

Well. Maybe.

 

—

>   
>  _"Hax," Ttam growled. "How did I know I'd find you here?"_
> 
> _A smirk played over the redhead's delicate lips. "You can't escape me, Solo. You and I — we're inseparable. Bonded, somehow. I can't get away from you, no matter how hard I try."_
> 
> _"Do you try?"_
> 
> _Ttam could feel his scar throbbing, the dramatic wound caused by Hax so long ago. It felt like a pulse. Like the beat of his heart._
> 
> _"I can't get away," Hax said again._
> 
> _Hax lowered his blaster. After a moment, Ttam did too. He didn't return it to its holster quite yet, but he took his finger off the trigger._
> 
> _"Do you really try?" Ttam asked. "No matter where I go — what planet I run to — I seem to always find you there. You're at the center of every mystery I try to solve. Do you really_ try _to get away from me, Hax?"_
> 
> _"I'm caught in your gravity," Hax said. "You're caught in mine. We're intertwined."_
> 
> _Ttam inhaled sharply. The idea of being intertwined with Hax — it was something he'd have to think about._
> 
> _"Well," he said slowly. "If we're stuck together, what do you say to helping me crack this case?"_
> 
> _With Hax on his side, rather than trying to stymie him, perhaps he could make some real headway. Perhaps the mystery could be solved. The murderer found._
> 
> _Perhaps they could do it … together._
> 
> _"I'll do it," Hax said. "I'll share everything I know with you. If we collaborate, I'm certain nothing can stop us."_
> 
> _Yes, Ttam thought. That would be the two of them. Unstoppable. Together. Like fate, if Ttam believed in fate. Like destiny. Like ... gravity._
> 
> _Ttam holstered his blaster and stuck out his hand. Hax, slowly, reached out his own. They shook hands, and their touch lingered, and they didn't let go._
>
>> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading :D!!!
> 
> feel free to come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://robokittens.tumblr.com/) for more kylux nonsense!


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